Page 37 of Redeeming the Dragon

“Is it some form of witchcraft?” asked Father, who had stepped out onto the porch behind me. I shot him a grateful look. Grateful, because I knew Mama would not press me on sensitive issues in front of him.

“I don’t know, Father. Truly, I don’t.”

Father glanced at Mama. Mama still gazed, dismayed, at me.

“Avigale,” he said quietly, “Enough. She’s told us what she can. Let her sleep.”

It was a tone he didn’t use often in our family. A tone that he used as a chieftain, a ship’s captain. A tone of authority that meant the matter was finished. I could not help my soft sigh of relief.

Father drew me into his side, dropping a kiss on the top of my head.

“Your mother and I are very glad you are home, lass,” he said. “Go to your old room. Get some sleep. Your mother and you can speak after you’ve rested.”

Casting a glance over my shoulder at Mama, I practically ran from the porch and into my bedchamber, shutting the door firmly behind me. I’d never been so grateful for my father’s interference. However, as I undressed and changed into my sleeping clothes, still in my room from my life before, I reckoned with the fact that my mother would not give up. I must be on my guard against her, or else disobey the dragon’s commands. Why disobeying the dragon filled me with such anxiety, I couldn’t say.

I searched my soul as I lay down. The idea filled me with doom. Heed his orders, and all would go well. Disobey?

Disaster. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name.

Chapter 23

Evading my mother quickly became a chore. In fact, it became such a bother that I began to long for the dragon to reappear and hurry me home to the cave. When such notions invaded my mind, guilt perplexed me. How could I long for that lonely, silent, cool cave when I was home on my beautiful island with the people I loved most?

My feelings were complex and confused. Part of me missed the silent companionship of the man who shared my bed at night, holding my hand but otherwise not touching me. Simply sharing quiet conversations or merely sleeping. The Warkin aside, I told myself I truly wanted to go back because I was fearful of Mama eventually maneuvering me into being alone with her.

No matter where I went, she turned up. If I were doing the chores or sewing in the common room or walking along the sand, there she was. Initially, I evaded her by simply walking faster, working harder, or fleeing with the excuse that I heard my sisters calling me. Soon, it became apparent that I was avoiding her, to the point that on the thirdevening at home Mama rose after dinner saying, “Lorna, let us go for a walk. I need to speak with you.”

Obediently, I rose, but said, “Marisa and Neena, will you come too?”

“No.” Mama snapped the word before either of my sisters could reply. “I would speak with you alone, my girl. There are things a mother must know.”

Childlike deference to my parents warred with the anxiety twisting my guts, warning me not to disregard the dragon’s cautions.

“I—I am sorry, Mama,” I said. “I am exhausted. I’d rather go to bed now.”

“Lorna, it’s so early,” Neena spoke up, confused. “Still daylight out. Would you retire already? Our time together will likely be short.”

“Lorna, I insist you walk with me,” Mama said staunchly. “You will sleep better for the exercise.”

I have stood up to a dragon,I reminded myself.I can stand up to my mother.

Stiffening my spine, I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Mama. I don’t feel up to it.” Before she could protest, I darted around the table, dropping hasty kisses on the cheeks of both my sisters, then my father, then even my mother as I murmured, “Good night. Sleep well. Good night.” I rushed to my room and closed the door, leaning against it, feeling my heart pound within my chest.

What am I doing?

Always, I’d been a dutiful daughter who caused little trouble.

If that was the case once, it won’t be now,I thought, covering my face with a hand.

Why did I feel so torn? I hated resisting my mother, hated quarreling when our time together was so precious. And yet—what choice did I have?

It’s either give in and have all my plans of a future escape be crushed, or continue to resist and hope to make it up one day,I told myself. Be strong, Lorna. You can do this.

I hoped I could continue to. Truthfully, I did not know how many more times I had it in me to withstand my mother.

I put out the main lights in my room, as if I truly were going to sleep. Outside, I could hear footsteps and the familiar creak of the floor and scrape of dishes as my family set about clearing off the table. Guilt swarmed me. Cruel guilt for not taking part in simple household tasks, but also guilt for telling myself,

They surrendered you to a dragon. To be eaten by a beast, for all they knew. They can clean the table without you. It is the least they can do.

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